Can New York Cope With the Holmes Brothers
by jkkitty1
Summary: The brothers visit New York for business and some loving. However, as the Holmes brothers, nothing ever goes as planned.


Can New York Cope With the Holmes Brothers

The brothers visit New York for business and some loving. However, as the Holmes brothers, nothing ever goes as planned.

Chapter 1 New York

Sherlock was packing excitedly as he and Mycroft were off to New York for a week. Mycroft had a conference and Sherlock had been asked to consult on the serial killer that the police were unable to catch. They both figured they could be done by the fourth day and have some days of exploring the area together where no one knew them.

Arriving on the plane, they settled in first class next to each other.

"May I have a blanket please?" Sherlock asked the stewardess with a kindness Mycroft was unused to. The politeness and request surprised Mycroft until the blanket was placed over the two men and Sherlock grabbed his brother's hand under it.

A true smile spread across Mycroft's face and tightened his grasp. For the next six hours, the two men talked about what they wanted to do in New York and the rest of their lives. Although tired neither wanted to lose a minute of time that was so infrequent and precious to them.

Arriving in New York, they were immediately taken to the hotel. The room encompassed the entire top floor overlooking the city lights. Two bedrooms with their own bathroom were separated by a living area to give the impression of each using one.

As the door closes, Mycroft found himself pushed against the door and being kissed deeply and demandingly.

"Sherlock, I need to be able to breathe."

"Boring," Sherlock huffed as he dived in for another kiss.

Mycroft managed to move away from the door, aborting the kiss. "I have an hour before the opening reception that you decided not to attend, and I need to change. We'll have to continue this conversation later tonight. How about supper in the room and then enjoy a quiet evening in bed?"

Huffing once more Sherlock flopped on the couch, a hangdog look on his face. "How about a quickie before your meeting?"

The laughter Mycroft gave him had him sulking. "Nice try dear brother, but you also have to meet the detective in charge of the investigation in an hour. I would suggest you get ready now."

Sherlock slowly moved toward the other room, "I hate your dedication to your job at times."

"No different than your dedication," Mycroft called over his shoulder heading toward the bath in the left room. "Tonight, we'll talk about our dedication to each other."

"Only talk?" Sherlock's pout was clear in his voice.

"Don't forget, you can talk without words?" Mycroft response came as he closed the loo door.

A large smile broke out on Sherlock's face as thoughts of what could be 'talked' about without words. With a spring in his step, he headed toward the shower.

Mycroft entered the reception hall dressed in a light brown pinstripe suit accented by a lighter gray shirt and deep brown tie and matching pocket handkerchief. As he left the room Sherlock had declared that the outfit made him look edible although he also threatened anyone who would try it.

Knowing he couldn't leave until after the all the speeches that were scheduled in another few hours, Mycroft placed a smile on his face and began to socialize. Handshakes and requests for a few minutes of his time later in the evening followed him around the room. At the rate the requests were going, he knew that he wouldn't be free to leave before ten at least.

Bored of circulating, Mycroft found a corner and watched the wheeling and dealing going on in the room. The group of emissaries from many of the western countries took their turn making a point of speaking to Mycroft either for support for their demands or positions that he listened to but gave no firm commitment. No one who knew him wanted him on the opposite side of their view. Slipping his whiskey, his thoughts went to his brother and how things were going with him as he had one ear on those seeking him out.

He had been in love with Sherlock so long that he still couldn't believe that they had found each other and been accepted by their friends. Although able to be together at home, this week they could be together away from home. Being where they weren't known well, they would be able to spend the evening together in the bath, snuggling on the couch and making love. The smile on his face increased as he thought of all he would do with his brother.

"Excuse me, Mr. Holmes?" The Spanish ambassador broke through his thoughts.

"I'm sorry. A small headache, you were saying?" Mycroft quickly came back to the present.

"The agreement that was made with the Lanter Company seems to have the opposition trying to destroy the stability of our company. My government would appreciate if you could say a word or two that can cause them to stop their interference.

"I'll consider the situation and discuss the pro and cons with the appropriate people."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I appreciate your time and effort." The ambassador left sure that he would get his way.

As the diplomat walked away, Mycroft shook his head. Yes, he would speak to the appropriate people but not the ones the ambassador hope for. The agreement if not altered would hurt the English people and his country always came first.

After the speeches and a final round of the room, Mycroft headed for his rooms and the love of his life.

Chapter 2 Meeting Detective Rogers and jealous

While Mycroft was at the reception, Sherlock was at the 1st Police Precinct serving an area that consists of a square mile on the southernmost tip of Manhattan. The precinct is home to the World Trade Center, SOHO with its designer boutiques, fancy chain stores and high-end art galleries, Tribeca, a well-known hip area known for its old industrial buildings, many now turned into residential loft space with cobblestone streets lined with trendy boutiques and restaurants, and Wall Street.

The number of custodians who were murdered from the area left the police baffled. At first, the murders weren't aggressively investigated as no one of 'importance' was killed but then as the number of custodians increased the increase in burglaries from the building they worked in also increased.

"So, no one thought the murders were important enough to investigate until the increase in burglaries against the rich and powerful related to the deaths of the cleaning personnel.

"Mr. Holmes, I don't appreciate your accusation. This area has many foreign ambassadors, diplomats, and rich. We can't just barge into places without a good reason," Detective Amanda Rogers angrily told him.

"But if it was one of the important society people, I'm sure more than one person would have been assigned to the case," Sherlock bent down again, smelling the floor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Amanda demanded.

Ignoring the question, he asked. "Do you know where the man was before found here?"

"No, I don't. You were there when the call came in and we came right here. How did you expect me to investigate it in that amount of time?" Amanda's anger was clear.

"The water surrounding the man is full of sea pollution. He was killed elsewhere and deposited here." Sherlock informed her.

Looking at Sherlock, she also dropped to her knees and smelling the water. "You're right," she conceded.

"Of course, I am. Were the other bodies also surrounded by water?" Sherlock asked looking at the man's hands.

"You know you don't have to be a jerk about it. I would have to check the reports," Amanda stood, hands on her hips.

"Idiots," Sherlock mumbled.

"Excuse me!"

"The man recently came into money which is probably what got him killed when he went to get his keys back," Sherlock commented to himself.

"How can you tell that? The keys are in his pocket."

"I believe he was paid to give the thieves his keys to let them into the building last night after his shift. Look at his clothes and his hands. The clothes are new, not even washed yet. Not the type of thing a maintenance man would normally wear, and the shoes are not worn down at all, just a slight amount of dirt on the bottom but the side has been scratched from being dragged. His nails were manicured today, and he had a treatment on his hands. however, the hands themselves underneath although softened now are rough from the type of work he does. This man used his newfound gain to dress up probably for his date."

"Okay I'll give you the shoe, and I do remember seeing scratches on a few of the other victims. But come on, how do you know about the keys and the date." The look in Amanda's eyes said she didn't believe him.

"The date is easy. He has an engagement ring in his pocket and a slip of paper with the name of a well-known expensive restaurant in his pocket. Hence a date."

"Okay I'll give you the date, but the keys even you couldn't know that." She challenged.

"There's sludge on the keys that come off easily, so it is fresh. He was killed at the waterfront and moved here. To throw suspicion off the thieves the keys had to be found on the victim so were placed there after he was killed."

Amanda's doubt changed to surprise. "That's amazing."

"Really?"

"Surely you've been told that before."

"Just by my friend John, usually I'm insulted for being rude."

"Well, Mr. Holmes, I'll admit you're rude but you're also astonishing," She watched as Sherlock placed scoops of the water in a container from his pocket and scraped some of the sludge from the key into a bag before starting to walking away. "Where are you going?" She inquired.

"I need to examine the water and sludge to narrow down where he was killed. I'll text you later after I figure it out. I'll see you at the station tomorrow morning. Right now, I have a dinner to attend." Sherlock shot over his shoulder as he stopped a taxi.

Mycroft entered the rooms to find them lit by candlelight. They were everywhere including a table set up with a meal for two. Stepping into the room, he was pushed against the wall, and Sherlock started to caress and kiss way down Mycroft's jaw and neck. Mycroft felt his brother's hands pulling out his shirt and running his hands up and down his. Once he felt Sherlock squeeze his arse, Mycroft pushed him back slowly, "One moment please."

Sherlock moved away from his brother and kissing him gently. "It took you long enough I've been waiting forever."

"You knew I would be late tonight. Besides weren't you busy at the station putting up with a bunch of idiots." Mycroft asked when he came up for breath.

"She's not too bad for an idiot. Told her I had a dinner date and needed to leave."

Mycroft pushed him away a little, "A she? And you actually didn't mind working with her?"

"Actually, has a head on her shoulders. Almost acceptable to work with," Sherlock said turning back to the table. "Food's getting cold. Shall we eat?"

Sitting across from Sherlock, Mycroft asked, "What's she like?"

"The detective? I suppose you would say that she's fairly nice looking, intelligent, and dedicated to her job," Sherlock took a bit of the sirloin tips with a smile. "And she takes no crap from me. Reminds me a lot of John actually."

"Sounds like you enjoyed working with her." A little bit of wariness could be heard from Mycroft.

Sherlock looked at his brother with a huge grin, "You're jealous."

Realizing how he sounded, Mycroft quickly said. "No, I'm not. Just interested in your day."

Sherlock rose taking his dish with him and sat on his brother's lap. "I" kiss "think" kiss "you' kiss "are."

"I'm not," Mycroft insisted.

"I think you protest too much. Finish your dinner and I'll show you who I love and how much I love you."

Chapter 3 Jaffa Cakes

The next morning Mycroft was gone to his first meeting before Sherlock woke. He stretched and let out a small moan of pain that quickly turned into a smile. Last night was wonderful in Mycroft's arms. They both had given as much as they gave with no concern of being discovered.

After a shower and some tea (or dishwater Sherlock complained), he dressed in his normal suit and coat before leaving to meet Rogers. Arriving at the Police Station, he had to admit that he felt uncomfortable, not confident like when he entered NSY station. He found Rogers in a separate room looking back over the files. Sherlock felt at home looking around the room. He smiled at the pictures she had posted all over the room. Post-it notes in different colors were attached to many of them.

"Good Morning Mr. Holmes. Sorry about the mess, but this is how I think." She looked up at him, "Coffee over there if you wish."

"Feel free to call me Sherlock. And there is no need to be sorry, as I also think in a similar room."

The two spent the day looking over the board, making changes, going over the files that added details and feeling they were getting closer to the killer.

As the captain was walking by the room, he noticed the lights on. Sticking his head into the room, "You realize it is after five don't you."

The surprised look on the faces of the two detectives showed they were surprised that they had lost track of time.

"I believe it's time for you to leave for the day, Detective Rogers. The case will be here tomorrow," the Captain ordered turning to leave he turned back, "And thank you for coming, Mr. Holmes. We do appreciate it." Then continued his way home.

"The man's an idiot. How does he expect us to prevent the next murder if he sends us home when we're getting somewhere?" Sherlock complained.

"According to what I read in Dr. Watson's blog, I know you're used to working around the clock, but I'm under the rules of the captain. However, if you would join me for supper, we can continue talking off the clock."

A rare smile graced Sherlock's face. "I'm not hungry but will join you while you eat."

"Oh no Sherlock, we both eat, or I'll just see you in the morning." Amanda insisted.

Then smiling she added, "The restaurant I was thinking of is Sparks Steakhouse. It is known for its mafia connections and has criminal pictures and items on its walls. So, while we eat, you can examine the inside. John Gotti used the location to make a power move for the Gambino crime family by mowing down Castellano and his bodyguard in front of the restaurant. Interested?"

The light in Sherlock's eyes was more than enough to have her laughing and leading the way. He texted a fast message to informed Mycroft he'd be back around eight.

The meetings dragged on and on. The representatives' Slavic Southern countries (Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, Macedonia, and Bulgaria) insisting that they each were entitled to more property and insisting that the major countries help them obtain the land they believed was there or they would cut off imports from them. Mycroft was bored with the threats that would sink any country trying to impose them. 'Boring' was Sherlock's favorite word—thinking about him made a smile appear on his face.

"You find something amusing Mr. Holmes?" The Bulgarian representative demanded when he saw the smile.

"Mr. Ivonic, we both know the threats are nothing your counties can afford. Now I suggest we all be reasonable about the land issue. Each conference has the same demands, and each time these demands are unsolved. Each country has unique resources that other needs. Perhaps you should come up with an agreement to work together to supply the other countries here instead of trying to take over your neighbors' land and resources." An uproar followed his statement and a recess was called.

Once they reconvened, the conference went smoother and agreements were made. Looking around the room, Mycroft sighed. Only three more days of this and he would have Sherlock to himself. He worked hard to prevent a smile once more as he thought about last night and how Sherlock had loved him. He was sore and sitting was a little uncomfortable but felt so loved.

The meeting continued for hours during which many times Mycroft felt his mind drifting to his brother and wondering what he was doing. A cleared throat or a repeat of his name brought him back to the meeting and surprised everyone when he would give an answer or suggestion to what had been discussed. A smirk on his face, he may be daydreaming about tonight with Sherlock, but he always knew what was going on around him.

He also noticed that there was always a hot cup of tea by his side and small cakes during the day. The next time there was a break and the waiter brought him tea without noticing that he needed a new one, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Alberto Clotworthy sir. Did I do something wrong?" The man asked.

"No, just wanted you to know I appreciate your effort to make my day more comfortable. These meeting can be draining, and a hot cup of tea always make them more tolerable."

"Anything you need sir, just ask."

Mycroft sighed, "If I could only get some Jaffa Cakes, it would feel like home. But again, thank you for your thoughtfulness."

"Thank you for the kind words, sir, I'm glad that I can make your day better. And would like to compliment you on your wardrobe, it is so dignified, not like others here today." The waiter smiled as he took the dirty cup and left before Mycroft could respond.

Before he was out of range, he heard Mycroft sigh, "Yes, Jaffa cakes and a quiet night with a lover would be nice."

It seemed a waiter had taken a special interest in him, shrugging his shoulders he decided Anthea was making sure his meeting had at least some of the comforts from home and would thank her went he returned.

Finishing at 6:30, Mycroft headed up to the room planning on surprising his brother with dinner and candlelight. The text he received from his brother stated he'd be home by eight gave him time for a bath and a drink.

Chapter 4 Forgotten Supper

Entering the room well after midnight, Sherlock saw candles and silver domed food set for two. He had been so involved with what was on the walls and talking to the staff that had knowledge of the restaurant as part of their duties that he lost track of time.

Looking at the set up in the room, he realized that he forgot about the dinner Mycroft had organized for them. Stepping into the room further, he saw his brother asleep on the couch.

Bending over, Sherlock placed a kiss on Mycroft's head. "Sorry love," he whispered as his brother stirred.

Sitting up Mycroft looked at his watch, "You said you'd be back around eight. Did a lead come up?"

Sherlock sat next to his lover and looked at his hands, "No. Amanda took me to a restaurant that is a famous Mafia site and the history. I lost track of time. I'm so sorry."

"So, you had dinner already with Detective Rogers. Obvious you're not hungry now. I have an early meeting and tired. I'm going to bed," Mycroft stood and headed toward his room.

"Mycroft?"

"What Sherlock? I'm tired that nap did nothing for me except hurt my back. Good night." Some bitterness could be heard in his voice.

"Please, I'm so sorry. Can I make it up to you?"

"I'm sure if you still aren't tired, Miss Rogers has other ideas to keep you busy. I'm going to bed."

"You're being ridiculous. There's nothing between Amanda and I. You're jealous for no reason." Sherlock fired back. He moved up to his brother, kissing him deeply. "Does that feel like I want her?" He asked as he stepped back.

"She is fairly nice looking, intelligent, and dedicated to her job according to you. Seems like someone you can relate to."

"First, she's not my type. Second, yes, she is all that, but not someone I want. And third I'm in love with you. You're all I've ever wanted and all I need," Sherlock leaned in for another kiss.

Before reaching his mouth, Mycroft pulled him in and held him close. "I'm sorry that I'm so insecure. I see every head following you when you walk into a place, the flirting both men and women try with you, and the desire in people eyes. I can't believe you want me."

The look in Sherlock's eyes said all he needed to see. He left out a small laugh. "You're not the only one who found a good-looking person today. Alberto the waiter was flirting with me all day. Hot tea and the best pieces of cake were always within my reach."

"Someone was flirting with you. Is he better than me?" Sherlock asked tensely pulling away to look his brother in the eye.

"Let me see," Mycroft teased. "Dark hair, deep blue eyes, perfect build, and a deep sexy voice. Not bad at all."

"I'll have to harm him. No one gets you but me," Sherlock insisted.

The look of sadness in his little brother had Mycroft laughing. "Only you little brother, always."

Holding him tightly, Sherlock began placing little kisses on his face and neck.

"I want you always, big brother. Always." Standing Sherlock offered his hand to Mycroft who took it and was led into the bedroom.

The next morning both brothers were up before five and after what started out as cuddling, moving to caressing and petting finishing up with mutual blowjobs and still out of the door by six.

"How am I supposed to keep my mind on the boring meetings, when all I'll be able to think about is the fellatio you just performed?" Mycroft asked after a breath-taking kiss by Sherlock.

"Really Mycroft, can't you relax a little. Everyone calls it a blowjob even most of our posh friends."

Rolling his eyes "That might be true, little brother, but I prefer not to lower myself to the masses if you don't mind. Now, what time are we meeting tonight?"

"What time do you figure your meetings will be done?"

"Should be around ten tonight. I'm trying to get done as much as possible so tomorrow will be the last day. Then we will have three days before we need to head back to London." Mycroft answered as he dressed in his uniform of the day, his grey pure Vitale Barberis Canonico three-piece wool suit with its flap pockets and padded shoulders. The five-button jacket and waistcoat with the red/gray striped tie finished it off giving him an extra trim fit. Glancing over he saw his brother staring at him. "What?"

"Are you sure you can't skip the first meeting and let me continue to admire you?"

"Sherlock! I'm assuming you'll be done by ten tonight?" Mycroft huffed.

"I'll be here with bells on," a smirk on his face.

"Leave the bells and just bring yourself," and with a fast kiss, Mycroft headed out the door.

Whistling Crazy in Love, Sherlock left shortly after.

Chapter 5 Black Eye discussion.

Mycroft was stopped every few steps by delegates, ambassadors, and other emissaries of diplomats that wished a private word with him causing his head to begin to ache. Those who stopped him knew he was the power at the meeting and would influence the way decisions went. His personal secretary for this conference quickly writing down everything said at each stop. Finally, at the door, he felt relieved.

Entering the meeting room, Mycroft noticed Jaffa cakes at his place. He knew they weren't from the hotel kitchen and wondered how he received them.

"I hope you don't mind Mr. Holmes, but I thought you might enjoy these instead of the kitchen's offering, so I stopped at our little bakery by my house," Alberto said as he placed a hot cup of tea at his place.

Smiling kindly, Mycroft addressed the waiter in a friendly voice. "Thank you, Alberto. It was kind of you but was completely unnecessary."

"Anytime sir. You deserve the best and I don't mind."

As others came in the room, his British Government persona came out. "Once again thank you, Mr. Clotworth. I appreciate the kindness." Dismissing the man, before turning to speak to the emissary from Chile's ambassador who came to ask for time to discuss something before the meeting, he missed the look of delight and longing on the waiter's face.

As Alberto left he looked back and whisper. "You have your Jaffa cakes and tonight I'll see you get your quiet night with a lover."

The meeting was long even with the breaks. While others could rest, Mycroft was always surrounded by members of the meeting looking for a private minute or special favors. That was why when two of the delegates decided to settle their differences with fists, the British Government found himself in the way of a fist that knocked him to the ground. Security broke up the fight and helped Mycroft to his feet. The head of security, McCarthy, and Mr. Hayes, the head of the proceedings, stood before him.

Hayes started to gush all over Mycroft, blaming security for the lack of peace. Mycroft found the man a weak, hateful little man, who felt he was above everyone else and would never take the blame for anything going wrong. As Mycroft knew it was a comment by Hayes that had set off the two delegates, he felt justified expressing his indignation.

"Security was doing its job admirably, it was a loose comment made by someone who should have known better than set the men against one another." Mycroft eyed Hayes who mumbled a comment and left.

"Shall we retain them, sir," McCarthy asked as Mycroft brushed himself off.

"No, they would be released before anything could be done. I'll survive but would like both removed and not allowed back in." He looked toward Hayes, "Their replacements should be arriving as soon as my PA notify their governments and will arrange it. In the meantime, we'll address the next items that do not concern them until their alternates are in place. When their replacements appear please have them report to me, before Mr. Hayes."

"Yes, sir. And again, I'm sorry for the incident."

As he returned to his place, an ice bag was offered to him by Alberto. "It will help keep the swelling down sir."

Mycroft gave him a brief smile as he placed the ice on his eyes, "Thank you."

"I hope those men will be punished for what they did to you sir," Alberto watched as the two were led out of the room hatred etched on his face.

Waving away the concern, Mycroft said. "No permanent harm was done and I'm sure their government will deal with their conduct. I'm just surprised it took this long for something to break out. Now if you excuse me Mr. Clotworthy, we need to continue with our meetings."

Sherlock entered the police station, to see Amanda sitting on a desk talking to a group of detectives. He watched her easy interaction with the men and once more wished he was more comfortable about interactions.

"Ah, Sherlock. We have another body, and I was going to leave you a message."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go before some idiot messes up the crime scene." Sherlock said. The look he received reminded him of John's when he did something wrong. "A bit not good?" He questioned her.

"Quite a bit not good, Sherlock. But you're right we need to get there before the site is destroyed." Amanda agreed with him.

The site was covered, and the barricade was surrounded by police. As they approached, the police moved aside allowing them to enter. After spending an hour going over the scene, and arranging for witnesses to arrive at headquarters, the two returned to the squad room a little after noon.

They posted their notes and began going over everything, but had to stop until the autopsy and lab work was done.

"While we wait, Sherlock, I thought perhaps we could go to Museum of the American Gangster. It's dedicated to all things mafia."

"Not interested. Most museums have nothing but items with no signify to an outsider and just a lot of garbage." Sherlock declined the offer.

"That's how this one is different. It was originally owned by crime figure Frank Hoffman and served as a speakeasy during prohibition. You can even visit the tunnels under the building that during prohibition patrons used to enter the club and helped murders to escape. It does have numerous of unique black and white photos, news clippings, ephemera, and artifacts of the criminals and assortment of memorabilia. However, unlike history books and the movies representation, every object including the smallest tells a true, fascinating tale of the truth about gangsters. I sure that many of the items would interest you." Amanda gives him further details that caused his interest to peak.

Looking at his watch, Sherlock noticed he had at least eight hours before he needed to be by his brother. "As long as we can return here if the results come back."

Nodding, they left the building.

Chapter 6 You're mine

Mycroft entered the rooms early than he intended to find all the lights off. Frustrated from the constant battle for his attention, he had hoped Sherlock would be back early to spend extra time with him. As he went to turn on the light, a "don't" ran out before he was grabbed and pushed into the door and kissed. After recovering from the shock of the attack, Mycroft attempted to push the assailant away but a punch in the stomach took his breath away.

"I'm so sorry I had to punish you, but I didn't want you to set off the alarm. I had hoped we could do this the easy way but I'm not disappointed that you like it rough. Of course, I should have known a man who must always be in charge likes to be forcibly taken so he doesn't feel like he's giving in. Don't worry I came well prepared for any way you might like it."

The next minute Mycroft, who still was having trouble catching his breath, was shoved on the floor, cuffs clicked on his hands as they were pulled behind his back and his shirt and jacket tore open. Fighting the man, a fist to his face caused him to become dizzy. "Don't worry love, I'll give you what you want. The bruises tomorrow will let all those downstairs who are trying to have you know that you're taken." Mycroft's attempted to turn his head but fingers dug into his jaw holding it still. He attempted to yell out but lips crushed his mouth as a hand tightened around his neck beginning to limit his air.

"I know you want this, need me to make you happy," a voice asserted as his lips were released. The rug pressing on his cuffed hands as he was dragged across it to his room caused them to dig into his back sending pain shooting through him. Struggling against the hand on his throat, Mycroft began to get weaker as blackness appeared around the outside of his vision. Feeling his pants being unzipped and pulled down, he became unconscious.

As he opened his eyes he began to struggle.

"You're safe, Mikey. I'm here." Sherlock assured him with a gentle hand on his cheek.

Looking around the room, he saw the place was empty. "Where?" Mycroft croaked.

"I called Anthea after the man became unconscious. She sent some of your people to clean up the garbage."

"How?"

"I was coming back from the crime museum when I heard a scuffle in the room. Going through the door in my room, I surprised him as he was attempting to remove your pants. Before you ask, it was Alberto the waiter you told me about. He was shouting that you were flirting with him downstairs and wanted this and that I should go away. You were his and no one else. Anyways, I don't think he'll be seeing the light of day in a long time after his six months or so in the hospital. He fell a few times before the men arrived to take him away. Now I have some soup for you then you need some rest." Sherlock lovingly ordered.

"But tonight…" Mycroft began coughing from his sore throat.

"We have the rest of the week. They need you tomorrow at the meeting, so rest up after getting some of this into you." With that, Sherlock helped his brother sit up and feed him soup.

"Now rest."

"You'll be bored."

"I have some samples to examine from the crime scene. I'm pretty sure I know who did it and as soon as I confirm it, I join you." Covering Mycroft up again, Sherlock kissed him gently on the lips. "Besides I need to get you some concealer, or you'll have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow how you managed to get those black eyes and bruises around your neck."

"Only the neck and one eye are from Alberto," Mycroft informed him voice still hoarse and quiet.

"And the other eye?"

"I, unfortunately, walked past two members of the meeting when they decide to take their discussion to the next level."

"And are they still around?" Sherlock angry asked. "I'd like to have a word with them."

"At this moment, I'm sure Anthea is discussing their behavior with them. They won't be back tomorrow." Mycroft laid back beginning to close his eyes. "Stay with me until I fall asleep." Nodding, Sherlock lay beside his brother until his breathing evened out.

The next morning Sherlock tried to convince Mycroft to stay in bed and heal some more but knew it was a losing battle before he even started. After his older brother got up, Sherlock used some of his disguising skills to apply the concealer to his brother's eyes and neck. Once done Mycroft declared himself presentable and dressed for the conference.

"I'll be back by six tonight, I managed to figure out who was doing the killing and how we can trap him," Sherlock announced.

"Did you know last night?" Mycroft asked drinking some tea slowly. Sherlock could see that he was still having trouble with his throat but said nothing as he knew his brother would just deny it. Instead, he went to the bag with the concealer and pulled out a bag of lozenges, dropping them next to Mycroft as Sherlock sat down for tea also. A smile acknowledges Mycroft's appreciation.

"No. But while watching over you, I finished my examination of the samples. And the museum helped to confirm my conclusion also." Sherlock explained.

"Museum?" a questioning look passed on Mycroft face before he lowered his eyes. "I take it Miss Rogers took you.

Sherlock rose to kneel at his brother's feet. "My love, we discussed this. I love you and only you. Now don't be jealous," at which Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "I know you are worried, but the case will be wrapped up today and it will only be us. Now stop being a worry wort and get your meetings over. Then I'll show you how little you'll have to worry. I'll see you by eight tonight?"

"You do know I'll still have some meetings tomorrow morning, correct?"

"It will give me time to do the paperwork, so I'll have no outstanding requirements," Sherlock assured him.

As the brothers kissed, they left for their respective duties.

Chapter 7 Anthea gets her way

As Mycroft stepped out his door, two personal bodyguards were waiting for him. A questioning look at them was answered with one word. "Anthea." Sherlock laughed as he hurried to leave before she thought he also needed someone to watch over him.

"Have a nice day brother," Sherlock called out hurrying down the steps.

"Okay, gentlemen. Let's not make Anthea angry with any of us by not doing our job." With one in front and the other in the back of Mycroft, they headed to the conference room. A silence fell over the meeting hall as the 'British Government' entered the room, frustrating Mycroft. He had hoped that what had happened last night was not known.

McCarthy and Hayes approached him as he took his seat. "Mr. Holmes, my utmost apology again for the failure of our security," he frowned at the Security Chief standing by him, "to protect you last night."

"It was not security's job to protect me in my own rooms. And as the committee chair, which is you, vets each person working here, perhaps you can be more diligent in your job if you ever chair a meeting such as this again."

A sputtering came from Hayes as Mycroft turned to McCarthy interrupting the little man before he could speak and address the security chief.

"No permanent harm was done as my brother arrived in time to hear a shuffle from my room and was able to overcome the assailant. However, as you can see my own security will be with me today," Mycroft said waiting for an argument from the men as it was not normally acceptable to have personal bodyguards in the meeting room.

Hayes started to bring up the rule, but a raised eyebrow from Mycroft and McCarthy speaking up had Hayes not continuing his statement. "I understand perfectly and of course an exception will be made for you. If your team needs anything, please have them ask one of my men contact me."

Mycroft shook McCarthy's hand before addressing Hayes who was glaring at the Security Chief. "Now Mr. Hayes if you could possibly take your seat, perhaps we could get today's agenda completed in a reasonable amount of time. Actually, with everyone's agreement, we might even be able to finish all the items today before another incompetence and uselessness can cause another incident ."

Rolling his eyes, Hayes started to walk away when Mycroft inquired, "Is there a problem Mr. Hayes?"

Having been caught, Hayes denied a problem and quickly headed toward his seat. McCarthy lifted his cap toward the Englishman. "Sorry again sir." Leaving for his post with a smile.

Heading toward his room with his two bodyguards accompanying him, Mycroft had a spring in his steps and a grin on his face. He found himself whistling as he headed toward his (their) room with champagne and flowers in his hands. Anyone seeing him from home would think he had lost his mind. But Sherlock was worth every bit of it. The text Sherlock had sent earlier had let him know he was heading back to the room as all the paperwork was finished early, and he was all Mycroft's for the rest of the week. With his meetings completed also, they had three days just for them.

He had almost reached his door when he heard his phone ring. If he was not so well trained, he would have ignored it but being the British Government meant he couldn't. Looking at the phone, he saw a number he didn't recognize. "Mycroft Holmes," his frustration was clear to whoever was on the other end of the phone. As he listened, a thunderous look appeared on his face. He stopped in the middle of the hall, anger rolling off him in waves. His security guards moved closer to him on high alert.

Biting off each word, he demanded into the phone, "How did that happen? Never mind, we'll address that after this is resolved. Do you have any idea where he is now?" Listening to the answer, he continued angrily. "I don't want excuses. I want him located now." Clicking off the phone.

"Sir?" one of his guards asked.

"Those idiots managed to lose Alberto Clotworthy when he asked them to stop so he could go to the bathroom. They left him in the bathroom by himself, and he succeeded in escaping through the bathroom window."

Both guards loosened their suit coats and took the safety off their guns as they approached the door.

"No, stay here. I'll go in first. My brother had finished his meeting a while ago and should be in there. If Clotworthy is here, Sherlock could be in trouble."

"But sir, Anthea said not to leave you out of our sight."

Mycroft whipped around to glare at the man, "You will wait here until I call for you. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

The guards looked at him, then nodded.

Gripping his umbrella handle tightly he moved to the door, turning the doorknob he opened the door and step through.

Sherlock had finished all the paperwork and prepared to leave when Amanda stopped him.

"Thank you, Sherlock, for all your help. No one would have figured out that the water surrounding the victims was from that specific factory's sludge. I still can't believe how you figured it out but when you walked up to him and informed him you knew he was a killer, the shock on his face was precious. You do know however, he could have killed you." Amanda although thanking him, was still upset with his behavior.

"You sound like John. It turned out okay, and that all that matters. Paperwork is done, and everything is wrapped up, so I'll be leaving. My brother is insisting we have supper together tonight and do some sightseeing before heading for home." Making it sound as if he was doing it only to appease Mycroft instead of the happiness he was feeling over the next few days.

"Sounds like he cares that you have a good time," she said.

"Actually, he wants something, just softening me up before asking. Well, Amanda if you're ever in London look me up. My address and phone number are on the website."

She watched him walk away promising herself she would take him up on the offer one day.

Chapter 8 Love is a dangerous game.

As Sherlock walked to the hotel, he passed a little shop that had antique items. Knowing his brother's love for old tea sets, the one in the window called to him. Stopping in, he was surprised the whole set was present and brought it immediately ordering it delivered to Mycroft's room in the morning.

Stopping in his own room, he shaved, and cleaned up before entering the adjusting dark room, a noise had him turning around as a heavy item hit him on the head knocking him out.

Sherlock was awakened by ice water being dumped over his head. Trying to move his arms, he found both his arms and legs were bound to a chair with cuffs.

"Awake up you bastard," the ice water and screaming woke him up as the harsh words were shouted in a bitter, loud voice followed by a gun whipping across the detective's face. "You prevented him from being mine."

Feeling the skin on his cheek crack open, Sherlock glared at the man standing before him. Alberto stood with his chest puffed out, standing as tall as possible and his face showing how insane he was. His hair was wild from where he obviously ran his hands through it while waiting for Mycroft. Unfortunately, Sherlock had arrived first.

"If you read my brother bio, you would have realized I'm his younger brother with nothing other than irritation between us. If you want him, you can have him. He's nothing but a puffed-up rooster who thinks he runs the world with a fantasy of barnyard chief cock," Sherlock shot back.

Alberto anger ramped up. His jaw muscles tighten causing him to clench and grind his teeth. Suddenly he began to swing his gun, knocking things off the table in the room before hitting the bound man again and shout "How dare you insult him?"

Sherlock could see his carotid pulse jumping as the man's heart pumped faster and his breathing became more erratic. Moving away from Sherlock, he paced mumbling to himself. He turned stalked toward the Sherlock. Alberto shoved his face into Sherlock, he screeched, "You're just his brother! How dare you think you can interfere with our love life?"

The man's eyes were wide open, eyelids raised in a murderous stare, his lips wide open with spittle running out of them, and face reddened with its muscles tense. He shoved the chair over and began to kick Sherlock, cursing him for taking Mycroft away from him. Unable to protect himself, the detective rolling into as small of a ball as possible tired up as Alberto continued to kick him in the chest and face.

Hearing the door open, Alberto yanked Sherlock up in the chair by his hair before shoved the gun into Sherlock's head yelling, "Stop right there." He looked up to see Mycroft stepping through it, "You came." He addressed Mycroft Sherlock but keeping the gun in place.

"I just finished my meeting and planned on having you released realizing it was my fault that you were being detained," Mycroft told him.

"Mycr…." Sherlock slurred but couldn't finish as his brother shhed him.

"Just be quiet, little brother. Alberto and I have a lot to discuss and you're interrupting us. Excuse my brother, he's always meddling where he's not needed." Mycroft fought internally to stop himself from wrapping his arms around his brother and caring for him. He knew however that he needed to get the waiter's attention off his brother and toward him.

"It's not your fault Mr. Holmes. We would have been okay if this cretin hadn't interrupted us when we were getting to know each other better."

"You're right. Why don't we leave him here and find another room, so we can continue what we started?"

Alberto moved away from Sherlock but keep the gun pointed at him, who had passed out. As his pacing became manic, his eyes glazing over, and his mumbling turned wild in a way that sounded like he was fighting with himself, he kept looking from Mycroft to Sherlock. As he was doing this, Mycroft began to start slowing toward his brother but a moan from Sherlock coming back to consciousness caught Alberto attention.

Spinning around, Alberto rushed back to the bound man. "Stop right there or I'll kill him."

"I was just making sure he's okay. If he were to die, I can't protect you and we won't be able to stay together." Mycroft hoped that the waiter would believe his rationalizing of his movements to give Sherlock and himself a chance to get out of this without further injury. "We can leave him in this room and call someone after we're safely away."

"But he took you away," came an angry whine.

"I came back, didn't I? He's nothing but my brother who doesn't know when to stay out of my life. Now it's up to you, either kill him and spend the rest of your life in jail away from me or leave with me now so we can share our love in safety."

Alberto's hand shook, the gun waving around. Looking between his prisoner and his desired lover, he was trying to make a choice. He wanted Mycroft but unsure if the man was lying to him or telling him the truth. Believing that Sherlock was the cause of his attempted imprisonment and loss of Mycroft's love, he wasn't sure if he could leave the detective live.

Alberto hesitated, vacillating between believing and doubting if what was said was true while Mycroft moved closer to the two. Sherlock opened his eyes while the waiter was looking the other way and shook his head against what he knew his brother planning.

As Alberto turned away from the men, Mycroft yelled for the guards to enter. When they entered, Alberto spun around firing the gun at Sherlock but because the angle was wrong, the bullet just grazed the detective's arm.

Answering gunfire from the guards, had the madman falling, blood pulsing out from several wounds including one from his carotid artery.

Without glancing toward Alberto, Mycroft hurried to his younger brother after demanding a cuff key from one of the guards. "Help me get him to the bed in his room and get someone to get rid of that." He said pointing at the body.

The bodyguards helped move Sherlock to his bedroom before doing as asked.

Chapter 9 Love can be an ice cream sundae

"I' don't need to be in bed," came an angry complaint from Sherlock as the doctor and Mycroft walked into the room.

"You will do exactly what the doctor tells you and allows him to check you over," Mycroft ordered him.

"You can't tell me what to do," Sherlock sulked. "I'm personally fine. Besides, there is nothing you can do to make me stay in bed," he claimed as he began to get up.

A raised eyebrow from Mycroft and a hand on his shoulder, had the detective lay back down.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, little brother. Now let the doctor patch you up. I have things to take care of in the other room."

The pout on Sherlock's face, made Mycroft laugh aloud.

"I hate you," Sherlock yelled after his brother who walked out the door.

"You'd told me that all my life and whether you hate me or not it's either following the doctor's orders or going to the hospital. Now do as the doctor says, and we'll see if he'll allow you out of bed."

As the doctor checked him over, he placed a few stitches in the back of his head, butterfly bandages were used on the open area of his face and his ribs were wrapped tightly.

"I'm ready to get up now right?" Sherlock stated.

The look from the doctor, Mycroft, and the other personnel in the apartment had him laying back down pouting.

"I really do hate you all you know, "He complained.

"Either you pay attention to my doctor or I'll call Dr. Watson over to take over your care."

"You wouldn't dare, John would make me go to the hospital," Sherlock shouted pausing to grab his painful head.

"Would you like to see if I would or not?" Mycroft smugly asked.

"Fine how long do I have to lay here?" His moping became more pronounced.

"You should be able to take fly home on the scheduled day as long as you do nothing strenuous before then. It needs to be mostly bedrest with small periods of moving around."

As the people left Sherlock's room, he tried to reach for his pants to get out a package of cigarettes. Before he could, Anthea grabbed the slacks and removed the lighter and rest of the package.

"You're supposed to be my friend," Sherlock complained.

"And your brother is my boss, no cigarettes, no alcohol and no leaving the bed. Now, relax while I help Mr. Holmes clean up the mess in the other room.

As Mycroft's security people left, they took the dead body with them.

After all the people except Mycroft left, he notices Sherlock collapsed on to the couch after sneaking out of the bed while they were busy.

"This isn't a bed," Mycroft protested.

"I'm resting, aren't I?"

Mycroft hugged Sherlock lightly as he sat close to his brother, "You did."

"Are you all right, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked wanting to pull his brother even tighter against him but knew the injuries would prevent it. He settled for his hands wandering gently everywhere. Not protesting, Sherlock laid his head on his older brother's shoulder.

"I was worried you would be killed when you walked through the door. When you entered, and he insisted I was the reason that you left him. Why did you put yourself in danger, coming in by yourself and then trying to take his attention away from me?" Sherlock mumbled, emotions engulfing him and causing tears to begin to run down his face.

Tightening his hug slightly and trying to soothe his brother, Mycroft raised his jaw and gently kissed him. "I would do anything to keep you safe."

Sherlock pushed away from him angrily with a groan of pain that he ignored, "He could have killed you."

"If he had killed you, I would have died anyway. Don't you understand, you are my life little brother?"

Sherlock looked at his brother as the anger faded from him. "Looks like neither of us can afford to die then. Oh, Mycie I love you so. Please don't ever leave me."

"Never my love. Come on, let's get you back into bed."

"But I want to be with you," Sherlock complained.

"You will be," Mycroft assure him as he helped his brother up, moving into the bedroom. He undressed Sherlock and assisted him into bed before joining him.

Hugging his brother softly, Mycroft directed Sherlock head onto his chest. Kissing his hair and rubbing his back, he felt his brother snuggle up close to him.

Before long they began to kiss, starting with gentle pecks moving to desperate desire. Their caresses remained tender although both wanted more. Soon Mycroft rolled Sherlock onto him. Knowing neither were fit to have anal sex, Sherlock began to rub against his older brother.

"Fancy a snog, do you?" Mycroft smiles at his lover above him.

"How about we just stay in bed tomorrow, no actually the next three days. Nothing but snogging and our imagination."

"Sounds like a fine idea to me, but we'll have to eat sometime and use the loo." Mycroft teased.

Winking playfully, Sherlock said. "I can think of many interesting things that can be done in the bath. As for food, can we get whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and maybe even some honey?"

"And what would we do with them?" Mycroft asked with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"I'm sure that two geniuses can come up with something," Sherlock whispered before initiating a deep kiss. "I'll order ice cream to prevent you from getting bored," Mycroft suggested. It wasn't long before Mycroft was licking his brother clean from their Ice cream and all the topping.

As they fell asleep, strong arms pulled Sherlock close tenderly, fingers running through his hair relaxing him. Kisses peppered his face and words of love were whispered in his ears. This is what he was waiting for all his life. This was not a normal life, but it was their life. All that really mattered to Sherlock was that he was in his brother's arms and no matter what happened, what obstacles they had to face to be together, they intended to be there for one another for the rest of their life. The grin on Sherlock let Mycroft know he had plans to help keep them entertained the next two days.

In the morning, after the men were dressed for the day (Mycroft helped Sherlock put on his clothes as his little brother refused to stay in bed anymore) they left the room to have lunch downstairs. The cleaning ladies entered the room and started to straighten it out.

"What the heck?" the one lady who was working her first day there called out to her partner in the other room who came running to see what the problem was. Taking one look at the bed the second lady began laughing. "Haven't you ever seen any ice cream sundae before?"

The first lady stared at the bed which had ice cream, chocolate, whip cream and honey covering the bed in the shape of a body.

"Rich people and their games. If this is the worse you ever see consider yourself lucky. Now let's get going, we have quite a number of rooms to finish on this floor. Besides, most of the people who use these room leave the greatest tips."

"Is that a fifty dollar bill? Did they leave it by mistake?" The new maid asked.

The older maid placed a fifty dollar tip left for them in her pocket, "We'll get those dresses we were looking at before, just for cleaning up a small mess." Both women continued cleaning with a grin on their face thinking of the dresses they would be getting later that day. And wondering what they would find the following morning.


End file.
